Bite
by troatie
Summary: A series of three Maddison oneshots set before Seattle. The three of them could be independent oneshots, but they're related, so I decided to make them a series.
1. Bite 1

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm just borrowing them.

A/N: This is just a series of three Maddison oneshots written for a challenge. The three of them are written for the prompt "Bite" and are set before Seattle. Let me know what you think!

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**One**

Mark Sloan is not used to avoiding people.

Well, he's used to avoiding women after sleeping with them, but that's about it. So, avoiding one of his best friends? Completely new situation for him. But then again, the feelings he's been having lately aren't exactly familiar, so he assumes his life is just being turned upside down and chooses to roll with it. Kind of.

Because he could just sit back and see where life leads him if those feelings were about someone else. But it's Addison, his best friend, who is married to Derek, his other best friend. And that's why he really can't relax and see what happens. Because you can't really fall in love with your best friend's wife and just roll with it, can you? No. You definitely can't.

So, Mark Sloan is avoiding her like the plague. Like a plague of auburn hair that smells like summer, and red lips that beg to be kissed, and warm smiles that feel like someone's suddenly turned on the light in his previously dark life. And he shouldn't be thinking that way. He should be able to look at her and think "There's Addison, Derek's wife", and not "There's Addison, I wonder what it's like to wake up next to her." So, he's decided she's a plague, and has put himself on quarantine.

And it's working perfectly so far. But not today. Today, he's having one hell of a hard time avoiding her. Because, today? Today it's her birthday. And he's promised himself he's not going to be the first to wish her a happy one. Not this year. Because that's her husband's job, and Mark's been doing it for the past three years. But enough is enough, and he's not going to play house with her anymore. Because now he's in love with her, and he doesn't want it to be a game, and he knows that's just wrong. So, he's not wishing her a happy birthday before Derek does. And that's final.

But, really, his plan would be working much better if Derek was cooperating. Because, if Derek was cooperating – if Derek had already wished his damn wife a happy birthday – then Mark could go over to the nursery, wish her a happy birthday, and go back to avoiding her like the plague. But no, of course Derek isn't cooperating. Because it's already ten in the morning and he hasn't seen Addison since yesterday, when they had surgery together. And Mark knows that, because Derek slept in the same on-call room as himself. Sleeping at the hospital has become a habit for Mark. If he goes home, he'll feel the need to stop by and make sure she's all right. And he can't do that.

Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd doesn't avoid people.

She's too mature for that. She deals with them, talks things through, and fixes whatever issues she has with them. But she doesn't avoid people, because that's immature. And Addison is a strong, confident woman with enough maturity to deal with stuff without having to avoid people. Except for Mark, that is.

She's avoiding Mark. Because she's not a strong, confident woman when he's around. When Mark's around, she's a giggling, blushing teen, and she can't have that. Not when she can't really remember the last time Derek made her giggle, or blush, or feel like a teen. And Derek – her husband, Derek – not being able to make her feel those things anymore is bad enough, but the fact that his best friend is the one that makes her giggle and blush and feel like a teen? That's ten times worse. So, she's avoiding Mark Sloan.

And, as far as she's concerned, she's doing a great job. She's barely seen him in days, and when she saw him, Derek was also there, so that's very good. See? Not only is she avoiding temptation, but she's also spending time with her husband. And Addison refuses to acknowledge the fact that these days, when she spends the same amount of time with both of them, she misses Mark more than she misses Derek. Because that's ten different kinds of wrong, and she's not that woman. She's not the woman who falls in love with her husband's best friend.

But today, she wishes things were back to normal. Because she knows Derek is not going to wish her a happy birthday. He hasn't remembered it in three years, and that's probably never going to change. And, even though she's promised herself she won't look forward to seeing Mark today – because she should be looking forward to seeing her husband, not her friend – she can't help but hope he'll come by the nursery and wish her a happy birthday.

And she hopes he's not mad because she didn't call him yesterday – it was a Thursday, and Thursdays are for friendly movie-watching – and he's just busy with some surgery. But she couldn't call him, just like she didn't call him for the Wednesday friendly Chinese take-out, or the Tuesday friendly baseball game. Because she knows, the moment she calls, Mark will be there. Mark is always there. And she can't have that.

Mark Sloan is not a violent person.

He's not the kind of man who punches people when they get on his nerves. And that's what he keeps telling himself as he listens to Derek talk about his latest surgery. They're having lunch together, as they do almost everyday now that he's avoiding Addison, and his friend hasn't talked about anything but work. And Mark wishes he'd annoy the hell out of him by asking for ideas to surprise Addie on her birthday, like he used to do when things were simpler. When Derek was in love with his wife and Mark didn't really care what he planned for her on her birthday. But nothing's simple anymore.

Now, it's Derek not giving a damn and Mark being in love. But there's one thing that stays the same: Addison is still Derek's wife. And Mark knows it's wrong, but the urge to punch Derek gets bigger every second he spends talking about craneotomies instead of plans for Addison's birthday. But he isn't a violent person. And he tells himself that he doesn't want to punch him because he has the only woman he's ever loved and he doesn't even look at her anymore. He wants to punch him because he wants him to realize that he's ruining his marriage. It's not jealousy, it's concern. But it doesn't matter, because Mark is not a violent person.

Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd is not a bitch.

She's just professional. And, as a professional, she expects her staff to be one hundred percent focused on their jobs. So, when that ped's nurse giggled as she told the NICU nurse about what she did with Dr.Sloan in the on-call room last week, she thought it was necessary to let her know that was unacceptable behavior for a professional. And it's not that she's a bitch. It's just that she has high standards when it comes to her job. That's all. The problem wasn't that hearing the nurse talk about what she did with him filled her with something that resembled jealousy – but wasn't, of course, because she's not _that_ woman –, the problem was that the nurse wasn't being professional.

And so, she asked her, politely but sternly, if she had nothing better to do than gossiping outside her NICU. Out of professional concern, not jealousy. And the same nurses saying Dr. Shepherd is a bitch was completely uncalled for. And untrue. But, this time, Addison didn't say a thing, she just walked past them and went home for the night. Not that hearing them talk about Mark hurt more than hearing them call her a bitch. No, it wasn't that. It was just that she didn't want to give them more reasons to call her a bitch. Because, Addison? Is not a bitch.

Mark Sloan hates the rain.

He hates it with a passion. He doesn't see anything romantic or poetic about the rain. It's just cold water falling from the sky, and you get wet, and then you get a cold. Nothing romantic or poetic about that. So he always does his best to stay inside when it's raining. Except tonight.

Tonight, he's staying in front of her best friends' brownstone, soaking wet, after reminding Derek of Addison's birthday and being told he had a late surgery. Mark doesn't have an umbrella – he gave it to Addison the last time she forgot hers at home – and the rain is dripping from his hair and soaking up his jacket. His favorite jacket. But it doesn't matter. Because, right now? He has more important things to worry about.

Like knocking or not. Wishing her a happy birthday or not. And he knows, if he does it, he'll be playing husband again. Letting himself fall a little deeper, like he always does when he looks at her. Letting himself hurt a little more, like he always does when he leaves her. But then again, if he doesn't do it, no one will wish her a happy one. And it breaks his heart to think about that. So he stays outside, risking a cold and trying to make up his mind.

Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd hates sheets with paisleys.

She hates them because Derek loves them. She hates them because they remind her of him – of the lack of him – in bed. And she keeps putting them on their bed, because he loves them, because she still hopes he'll share them with her one of these nights. Every Friday, she changes the sheets and makes sure the clean ones also have paisleys on them. In case he comes home. Every Friday is the same, but not today.

Today, she's putting flannel sheets instead. Because she loves them and he hates them. And, today, it's not Paisley Sheets Friday. It's 39th Birthday Friday, and he's not coming home. And she sits down on the bed, feeling the flannel on her skin, and looks at the phone on her bedside table, toying with the idea of calling Mark. Even though she knows if there's someone she should want to call, that's Derek, her husband. Not Mark, his best friend.

But she's not crying because of Derek's lack of interest. She's crying because Mark hasn't wished her a happy birthday. And she knows it's both stupid and wrong, but that doesn't make it any less true. She misses him. And she's not calling him, but she's put the flannel sheets on the bed. The ones Mark bought for them as a joke after laughing at all the paisley in their linen closet. Because Addison hates paisley, and she loves flannel.

11:50 p.m is not a normal time to hear a knock on the door.

And Addison walks downstairs as she dries her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, but stops on her tracks when she recognizes the man standing on the other side of the glass doors. And she stops on the last step of the stairs, thinking about the possibilities.

If she opens the door, she'll be letting herself see she is the kind of woman who falls in love with her husband's best friend, like she always does when she sees him. She'll be letting herself hurt a little more, like she always does when he leaves. And, if she doesn't open it, if she walks back upstairs, she'll be leaving him outside in the pouring rain he hates so much. And it breaks her heart to think about leaving him there. So she opens the door.

"You're soaking wet." "I didn't know if I should come."

_Oh_. And a pause.

"You took a while to open the door." "I didn't know if I should let you in."

Another pause, longer this time. And then she fully opens the door and steps aside, looking down. The ball's in his court. He takes a step and walks inside, standing in front of her. Close, but also looking down.

"Happy birthday."

And it feels like an I love you, because that's what he meant.

"Thank you."

I love you too. And they look at each other. And then it happens.

He kisses her, or she kisses him – it doesn't matter – and they stumble towards the stairs, kissing as if they needed each other's mouth to live. He pushes her up against the wall before they reach the stairs, long legs wrapped around his waist and lips hurting in the most delicious way. And his jacket falls to the floor, and that's his cue to put her down and walk upstairs, tongues dueling and hands traveling under layers of fabric, aching for the feel of each other's skin.

They fall on the bed and it doesn't matter if her bra's still on, or if she hasn't finished pushing his boxers down his legs, because this is not about seeing each other, this is about feeling each other. Feeling her around him and feeling him inside her. Letting each other feel the things they can't let each other hear. And every thrust and kiss feels like an I love you, and every sigh and moan means I love you too.

And somewhere between the groans and sighs and moans and ragged breaths, they hear a door open, maybe downstairs or maybe in this same room, but it doesn't matter. Not when he falls on top of her and she bites his shoulder to keep herself from screaming.

Not when she's left a bitemark that tells him his name would have been the one she screamed.


	2. Bite 2

**Disclaimer: They're still not mine. **

**A/N:Here's the second oneshot, I hope you'll enjoy, please read and review :)**

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**Two**

It's been a month since That Night. And it still hurts, sometimes.

Twenty-nine days since Derek left. And she's not waiting for him anymore.

Twenty-five days since Addison went back to work. And the gossip still hasn't died.

Three weeks since she finally stopped avoiding Mark. And she regrets not doing it sooner.

Sixteen days since their second kiss. And he says it was even better than the first.

Two weeks since they woke up together for the first time. And he still can't believe his luck.

Nine days since he told her he loved her. And she told him she wasn't ready yet.

One week since he gave her a key. And she smiled and kissed him.

Five days since she used it for the first time. And they couldn't be happier.

And, thankfully, they're not feeling guilty anymore. Not that they don't know they hurt Derek. They do know that, and they feel guilty about that. But not about this thing they're doing – whatever you want to call it – that's making them feel happier than they had in years.

Mark stopped feeling guilty the moment she kissed him back. As far as he's concerned, Derek lost the right to make them feel guilty the moment he left her. The moment he physically left her. Because, emotionally? Derek left his wife somewhere between their 7th and 8th anniversaries. And, if Derek had stayed – if he'd done anything to prove he still loved his wife – Mark would definitely be feeling guilty. For loving her, for kissing her and for being impossibly happy with her. But Derek left, and Mark's not feeling guilty.

He did, at first. When she avoided him, and he heard the nurses talking about Dr. Shepherd going into an on-call room to cry. He felt guilty back then, because he thought he'd hurt her by ruining her marriage. But, as soon as they talked, and as soon as he kissed her and she kissed him back, he forgot about feeling guilty and focused on feeling happy instead. And on making her feel happy. Because she had a harder time dealing with the guilt.

Addison still feels guilty from time to time, but it's getting better. The guilt almost didn't let her breathe in the first couple of weeks. Every time she saw the empty space on their closet, every time she heard the nurses talking about it at the hospital, every time she saw the new head of neurosurgery... it was almost too much. And, then, she realized he was gone. For good. He wasn't coming back to make it work, he wasn't coming back to yell at her, he just wasn't coming back. He didn't care enough to scream at her. And the guilt started fading away.

There are still some moments, every once in a while, when she can't help but feel bad. Moments when she almost forgets there was a Derek. Moments when, even though she knows this started as adultery, she feels so happy she doesn't really care. But she's getting better at that too, and she doesn't feel guilty about snuggling into Mark and feeling safer than ever anymore. Most of their kisses are also guilt-free, and she's proud of herself for that. She still can't tell him she loves him, though. But she's getting there.

Mark Sloan is experiencing many new things lately. He's never been in love before, and he wonders if he'll ever get tired of feeling like this. He's never lived with a woman before, and he's loving every minute of it. Of course, living with Addison has its bad things – the ever-growing amount of shoes in his closet being the biggest one – but, all in all, Mark wouldn't change it for the world. He likes finding out new things about her. Small details that no one who's never lived with her would know.

Like the way she always sets the table, even if she's the only one who's eating. Or the way she likes to have something to read while she has breakfast – he caught her reading the ingredients in the box of cereal once – and gets cranky if you interrupt her while she's reading. And, his personal favorite, the way she always has a chocolate chip cookie after dinner and before going to bed. Only one, with no milk. She says she's been doing it since she was five.

That small ritual fascinates Mark. The way she takes her time to eat her cookie, savouring every bite as if she didn't have one every single night. And, right now, as she looks at her munching on her nightly snack while reading a shoe catalog, he thinks he's never wanted anything as much as he wants a bite of that cookie. He knows there's a box full of identical cookies in the cupboard, but he needs that one, because that's the one she's eating, and the scene in front of him is almost too much to resist.

So, Mark leans over the table and takes a bite, earning himself a smack and a death glare. "I don't share my nightly cookie!" Mark chuckles and sits back on his chair, looking at her. "Come on, Addie. Give me a bite." She takes off his glasses – and he knows she did it just to punish him, because she knows how much he loves those glasses – and cocks her eyebrow at him. "You go get your own cookie, Sloan." He crosses his arms across his chest, her trademark smirk appearing on his face. "Sharing is caring."

She shakes her head as she pops the last bit of her cookie into her mouth. "Maybe I don't care." He laughs and stands up, walking over to her. "Oh, but you do care. I think I deserve a bite of your nightly cookie from time to time." He leans in and kisses her, and she smiles when she pulls away. "I don't love you enough to share my cookie." The playful look on her face is all the encouragement he needs to kiss her again, and this time, neither of them pulls away.

It's been two weeks since Mark tried to take a bite of her cookie. And he still hasn't given up.

Ten days since she officially moved in. And she's happier every day.

One week since Mark said I love you for the second time. And she's still not ready.

Three days since their first kiss at the hospital. And the gossip is getting worse by the day.

He heard an intern talk about Dr. Shepherd making out with Dr. Sloan in the scrub room today. Which is complete bullshit, if you ask him. First of all, that wasn't making out, that was her wishing him luck before a surgery. Second, they weren't in the scrub room, they were going into the on-call room. And, third, she's Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd now, and he doesn't appreciate people forgetting that.

After a silent dinner in which Addison focused on the plate in front of her and tried not to make eye contact with mark, he stands up and grabs a cookie from the box, handing it to her. She smiles at him after taking the first bite. "Thank you. But I'm still not sharing it." He chuckles as he massages her shoulders, feeling her muscles relax. "I think I deserve a bite. I'm massaging your back and everything."

She lets out a small moan when he works his way down her spine, and he takes the opportunity to lean down and take a bite of her cookie, earning himself one of her famous killer glares. He shrugs and goes back to massaging her back. "At least you're not smacking me anymore." She giggles against her will, and pulls him down to kiss him. "I'm still not sharing." He smiles when she stands up, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Why not?"

Mark lifts her onto the counter, and smirks when she wraps her long legs around his waist. "Because I still don't love you enough to share my nightly cookie." She kisses him again before he can reply, but she pulls away when he tries to take the remaining half of her cookie from her hand. She quickly puts it in her mouth and tries to say something, but her mouth is too full to articulate. "You look like a chipmunk."

He smirks and she glares at him when he pinches her cheeks. "Swallow, Addie. I can't kiss you with your mouth full." She does what he said, and cocks her eyebrow at him. "I did not look like a chipmunk." He chuckles and kisses her again, his hands traveling under her shirt. "You did. It was cute." She tries to frown, but he's trailing sweet warm kisses down her neck, and that's very hard to resist. "Shut up, Sloan." And he laughs against her neck, sending shivers down her spine, because he knows he's won.

It's been one week since that night. And he's still trying.

Four days since his third I love you. And she replied with a kiss.

Two days since she referred to them as a couple. And he's still smiling.

Ten hours since she kissed him before his surgery. And she's missed him like crazy.

It's the first time since she moved in that she's having dinner alone. Mark has a very long, very complicated surgery, and he won't be home until around midnight. After having dinner and eating her cookie, Addison goes to their room and gets into bed, reading a medical journal until he gets home. She hasn't tried to sleep alone in this room, but something tells her she needs him next to her to fall asleep.

Mark walks into the appartment a few hours later, and kicks off his shoes before walking into the kitchen. He wants to eat something before getting into bed with her, because he knows if he goes to their room and sees her, he won't be able to walk away from her. And, let's face it, Mark Sloan needs his food, and not even naked Addison can replace that. But he'd never say that to her face. As far as she knows, she's all he needs to live. And it's close to the truth, anyway.

He looks inside the fridge and pulls out a milk carton, setting it on the counter as he grabs a glass from the cupboard. She really is domesticating him, two months ago he didn't really know if he had glasses in the house. He pours himself a glass of milk, and opens one of the cupboards to look for something to eat, when he spots a plate on the table. He walks over and picks it up, and a smile appears on his face when he reads the bright pink orange that's stuck to the plate.

It's a very short note – just "Welcome home" and a cute little heart as a signature – but it means so much more than that. Because, in the plate, there's a bite-sized piece of chocolate chip cookie, and he knows what that means. He pops it into his mouth and walks towards his room, crawling into bed next to her and grabbing the journal from her, throwing it to the floor.

He kisses her thoroughly, slowly and deeply, and pulls away only to take off her t-shirt. As she unbuttons his shirt, she smiles and moans slightly when he feels his teeth grazing her neck. "Someone's happy tonight." He smiles and nibbles on her earlobe, kissing it before whispering into her ear. "I love you too, Addie."

And she can't help but smile, because he understood.


	3. Bite 3

**Disclaimer: They're still not mine. **

**A/N: This is the third and last part of this series. It's slightly angsty, but I hope you'll enjoy it. Let me know what you thought :) **

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**Three**

Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd is a planner.

She's one of those people who know exactly where they'll be in five, ten or fifteen years. She knows, because it's all planned. It's all in a list in her head, and her list has been there since before she can remember. She's not one of those women who thrive on the unexpected, the surprising or the spontaneous. She's a planner.

There are three things Addison hates, and she's been having a lot of the three of them lately.

She hates it when planned things don't happen. Like her plans to have kids with Derek and grow old with him.

She hates it when unplanned things happen. Like cheating on Derek with Mark, falling in love with Mark, moving in with him and being surprisingly happy about it.

But, most of all, she hates it when planned things happen, but not the way they were supposed to happen. Like getting pregnant. With Mark's baby.

And she's close to having a panic attack right now, sitting on the toilet and staring at the three pregnancy tests in front of her. "What do I do?" And she's talking to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "What do I do? What do I do. WhatdoIdo, whatdoIdo, _whatdoIdo_." She's chanting the words under her breath, eyes closed and fingers rubbing her temples, trying to calm herself down.

But, really, as much as she hates having flip outs and losing control, she's pretty sure this is about the best moment for one of those. Or, at least, the moment when no one could blame her for having one.

It's not that she doesn't love Mark. She does, she loves him, and she knows he loves her too. They're happy, they have a functional relationship, and things are going great. But it's not the kind of relationship that ends up in babies, picket fences and family portraits. Someday, maybe, but not now.

Because he's Mark, and she's Addison, and they're MarkandAddison. And MarkandAddison don't have babies.

MarkandAddison laugh together, go out almost every day, have picnics at Central Park, steal kisses when they cross paths at the hospital, and screw each other silly the moment they're alone together. But they don't have babies. Because, MarkandAddison, while functional, happy and crazy about each other, are far from committed enough to have a baby.

And, individually, Mark and Addison don't have babies either.

Not Mark, the reformed manwhore who's still trying to get used to being in a relationship. Learning that a fight doesn't mean it's over, that her having a headache doesn't mean she doesn't want him anymore, that relationships aren't always easy, but that's okay. He's not father material.

And not Addison. Not this Addison, anyway. Not the one who's still married to a man who's been God knows where for the past three months and is somehow still in her mind sometimes. Not the one whose life is so far away from her plans that she sometimes wonders when exactly did she lose her grip on things. She's not mother material.

But she's pregnant. With Mark's baby. And as much as she tries to make that change by switching her low chanting from "What do I do?" to "_Nonononononono_", she knows it's still real. She's pregnant, she's flipping out, and Mark has a late surgery tonight. "I can't." She can't tell Mark. "I can't." She can't not tell him. "I can't." She can't have this baby. "I can't." She can't not have it.

"_I can't._"

She's not going to tell him. She's not going to have it. No one has to find out. She's going to deal with it, and everything is going to be okay. Eventually. Hopefully. And, somewhere between adding items #6 – "Call Savvy" – and #7 – "Make an Appointment" – to her new mental list, she drifts off to sleep, still sitting on the toilet, still rubbing her temples.

"Addie?"

His voice stirs her awake, and she smiles when she sees him looking at her from the bathroom door. "Did you fall asleep on the toilet?" He smirks, amused, and she suddenly remembers what happened. She's pregnant. And the three tests are still on the counter, but he's luckily oblivious to that. So she stands up, hoping to distract him, but of course her eyes dart briefly towards them – because that's what happens when you're trying to ignore something – and he notices and follows her gaze, his hands instantly leaving her hips.

"Is that... are you... Addison?"

And she just nods, because her life is, once again, ignoring her plan. "How did it... we were careful!" She keeps nodding, because, honestly, reminding him of the small – but real – failure rate of contraceptives doesn't seem like a good idea at the moment. He takes a step back, shaking his head, and she can't read the expression on his face when he looks at her.

"You said you were on the pill!"

She knows he's allowed to flip out. She knows she had more time to get used to the idea. But she's not going to suck it up and take the blame. "I am! Don't you dare blame me for this, Mark." He takes another step back, refusing to look at her. "I'm not doing this. I can't. I'm not doing this." And it's not that she's surprised, but it hurts to see she was right. "I'm not asking you to." He grabs his jacket from the bed where he'd thrown it minutes earlier, and starts putting it on. "Good."

He takes one last look at her, shakes his head once again, and turns around. And he's gone.

Addison doesn't bother going to bed. She knows she won't be able to fall asleep. She walks towards the living room and sits on the couch, staring at the black tv screen in front of her. She needs a new list. A new plan. Mark knows, and he – as she predicted – doesn't want to be a father. She'll make an appointment first thing tomorrow. She'll call Savvy, because she's going to need her best friend, and then she'll try to pull herself back together.

And Mark... she doesn't know. Maybe they'll work it out. Maybe they won't. Maybe this is karma's way of telling her adulterous whores don't get happy endings.

It's only 5 a.m, but she's already scrubbing in to go into surgery. It's how she copes. When you're elbow-deep in a woman's uterus, you really don't have time to worry about anything but your patient making it out of the OR alive. She wonders how he copes. He's probably at a bar, with a glass of scotch in his hand. Or running around Central Park. People do that, right? They drink or they run, and it helps them cope. But Addison hates being drunk – it makes her feel like she has no control over herself – and she hates exercising even more, so work it is.

That, she can control.

She can slice this woman's uterus open, stick her hands in it, pull her baby out, stitch her up and send her home. She can cross every step of the procedure off her mental list as she goes on. She finishes step three and hands the baby to the ped's nurse, who takes the little boy to his parents. Addison's eyes catch a red bitemark behind the nurse's ear, and she wonders how she got it. Nurse Charlene's reputation makes her think it was Dr. Nelson, the head of Pediatrics. He's married, and that makes him exactly Charlene's type. She stretches her neck for a moment before she starts suturing Mrs. Carter's uterus, her mind going back to the list and forgetting all about nurses, bitemarks and hospital gossip.

Addison walks into her office after checking on Baby Boy Carter and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper. It has the clinic's number written on it, and she looks at it as her fingertips toy with her phone. "Just make the call, Addison. Get it over with." She takes a deep breath before picking up her phone, and she's about to start dialing when it vibrates in her hand. She smiles when she reads the name that's flashing on the screen and puts the phone to her ear. "Richard?"

Thirty minutes later, she realizes her life just took another unexpected turn.

Richard – her mentor, her friend and the closest thing to a father she's ever had – needs her for a consult. And she has to say yes, because it's Richard, and she'd do anything for that man, but she's told him she needs to think about it. And she does. Because Derek is there, in Seattle, working for Richard. And he has a girlfriend. An intern. And she's not jealous, but she doesn't know if she's ready to see him with someone else just yet. She needs a new plan. Another new plan.

Call the clinic, call Savvy, get the pregnancy taken care of, fly to Seattle, save those twins, get a divorce, come back from Seattle, talk to Mark. And there's a question mark after the last item on her list. Talk to Mark? We'll see. If Derek has a girlfriend – if Indifferent Bastard gets a happy ending – maybe Adulterous Whore can get one too. Maybe. But she's not there yet. First, she has to call the clinic. She dials the first two numbers before she hears a knock on the door, followed by Mark walking into her office.

"Hey."

He doesn't look like he's spent the whole night drinking. Or running. And she wonders, yet again, how the hell does Mark Sloan cope with overwhelming stuff. How does he keep his cool, no matter what. He's wearing a small smile on his lips, and she wonders if he's high. Maybe he's on drugs, and that's why he looks so damn relaxed. Maybe he'll give her some if she asks nicely.

"What do you want?"

Nicely can come later. Right now, she's feeling many things, and none of them are even remotely nice. He closes the door behind him and takes a few steps towards her. She doesn't get up from her leather chair. Power play sounds perfectly okay at the moment. "Addie, I... I'm sorry about last night. About everything." She doesn't move a muscle. She doesn't want to make things easier for him. Not now. "I still don't think I can do this. But, if you think I can – if you think we can – then I'm in."

She doesn't think they can.

"I'm in, Addie. I'm in, and it comes with presents." He shoots her a playful smile as he hands her a plastic bag, and she has to resist the urge to whack him upside the head with the bag. Does he really think he can buy his way out of this? That somehow presents will make her feel better about this? That she'll... "_Oh_." She fingers the soft fabric of the Yankees onesie without pulling it out of the bag. "It's a onesie. It's cute, right? And, it's unisex. And I also bought you a calendar. So we can mark the due date and the appointments and all that stuff."

He places the bag on her desk and grabs her phone and the crumpled piece of paper, putting them both in her pocket. "Addison?" She looks at him as if she's just realized he's in the room. "I can't do this." And she leaves, ignoring him when he calls her name. Her plan still stands, but new question marks are appearing next to some of the steps. Call the clinic? Get the pregnancy taken care of?

When the first step is a question, things are far from okay.

She skips the first item on her list and calls Savvy, who meets her for lunch at the hospital an hour later. Addison has already told her she's pregnant, and she's told her she's having an abortion. Maybe. And Savvy squeezes her hand and asks her if she's told Mark, so she tells her. She tells her about the onesie and the calendar too, because she feels oddly proud of his thoughtfulness.

"That was sweet of him." Addison nods. "And that's why you're not sure if you want to do it." Another nod. "Because you think he's changed. That maybe this thing will work out." A third nod. "He's changed, Addie. I don't know exactly how much, but he has. You both have." And she smiles against her will, because she knows they have. And maybe MarkandAddison do have babies after all. Maybe Adulterous Whores get happy endings.

"I should go talk to him." And Savvy smiles at her. "Thanks, Sav."

She gives her friend a tight hug, and Savvy laughs when they pull away. "Gosh, Addie, you've had that mark for weeks. Does he always bite you on the same spot?" Addison smirks as her fingertips graze the spot behind her ear. "He does, actually. He has a thing for..." And then it clicks. "Oh." Savvy looks at her friend, a look of concern in her eyes. "Addie? Are you all right?" She fights back the nausea as the blonde's voice brings her back to reality. "Yeah. I'll... see you later." And she walks out of the cafeteria as fast as her Prada pumps allow her to.

She tries to ignore the need to vomit as she walks along the corridors, heels clicking rhythmically on the tiles under her feet. She's been wearing a red bitemark behind her left ear for weeks. The spot he loves to kiss and lick and bite. The spot he has a thing for, because he can taste her skin and smell her hair at the same time. And that mark has become so familiar that she doesn't even see it anymore when she looks in the mirror. But now, as she takes the last steps towards his office, the mark is burning her skin.

She doesn't knock.

Her eyes are closed when she opens the door, because she wants to give herself a few more seconds of blissful ignorance. There are no lists in her head right now. Just her own voice chanting a series of "Pleasepleasepleaseplease", silently begging whoever is listening her to make her be wrong about this. To make this be a freakish coincidence, that Dr. Nelson and Mark like tho bite the same spot when they're with a woman.

And then she opens her eyes.

Mark doesn't say a thing. Maybe because he knows there's nothing to say. Charlene looks down, embarrassed, and Addison knows she's just faking it. She's not embarrassed. But she guesses looking down is the right thing to do when your lover's girlfriend interrupts you in the middle of sex. She wouldn't know, she's only ever been the Adulterous Whore in this scenario. The role of Betrayed Damsel is new to her, but she's pretty sure thinking "So this is how he copes" is not exactly normal.

"I'm going to Seattle for a consult."

And she turns around and leaves, closing the door behind her. Adulterous Whores don't get happy endings, after all. She pulls her phone and the crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket as she walks towards her office, and there are finally no question marks in her list.


End file.
